


Champagne problems

by winter_angst



Series: Dribble Drabbles [12]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Heartbreak, M/M, Marriage Proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 18:34:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28532979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winter_angst/pseuds/winter_angst
Summary: "Sometimes it's just not meant to be."
Relationships: Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, Jack Rollins/Brock Rumlow, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: Dribble Drabbles [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1527689
Comments: 4
Kudos: 8





	Champagne problems

**Author's Note:**

> this story was inspired by Champagne Problems by Taylor Swift (hence the title).

“These past five years have the best years of my life. You’ve been my rock, my best friend, and I love you more than I’ve ever loved another person. You’re the first thing I think of when I wake up and the last thing I think of when I go to sleep. I can’t picture my life without you and I don’t want to. Brock, will you marry me?”

Jack looked up at Brock’s face which was frozen, his beautiful brown eyes popped wide open in shock, speechless. The engagement ring caught the light as the ball dropped on TV. He opened his mouth once, looked over his head, sweeping a look around at their grinning friends before he looked at Jack again.

“No.” 

Jack was shipwrecked. His faith falling through the pit forming beneath him. He could feel his heart breaking in real time, fissures growing into long, deep cracks. It hurt in a way he’d never experienced hurt before. He couldn’t move, couldn’t even breath, as he stared at Brock. The man looked a bit uncomfortable but other than that he was impassive. It wasn’t his heart being shattered into a million little pieces, after all. Jack tried to breathe, tried to lessen the searing in his lungs but his body refused to do so without exhaling as a sob. Jack wasn’t ready to cry, not when he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. 

“What?” 

He was on his knee still, frozen in place. Their friends were quiet. In the corner of his eyes he saw Clint trying to stem the flow of Dom Perignon from popping the cork too soon. For popping the cork to begin with. “I -- Can we talk about this privately. Please?” 

Brock’s eyes flickered nervously to the small crowd around them. The Ball had dropped and the magic of the New Years wilted to nothing as Jack grew increasingly aware of what was happening. That the wooden floors were hard on his knee, that he was still holding out the ring box like a fucking idiot. That Brock had said no. Five years. Five years and he was saying no? No, no that couldn’t be. Jack had misunderstood. 

“Jack, get up please.” Brock said, voice hushed. 

“No?” Jack choked out and he watched Brock’s eyes drift shut. 

“No, Jack. Look, this is a private conversation we should be having.” 

Clint had successfully gotten the foaming to end and was looking helplessly at Natasha who had schooled her expression with impressive skill. Steve leaned slightly to whisper something to Bucky who shook his head gently, eyes glued on the scene now unfolding. He drew in a breath, wet and unsteady, but managed to stem any tears as he gathered his feet under him, standing up from the proposal pose. His heart clenched painfully as Brock averted his eyes from him. Jack felt lightheaded and he hoped this was a nightmare brought about by pre-proposal jitters; it wasn’t. This was happening, Brock had rejected his proposal in front of their closest friends after five years together. Had Jack misunderstood? 

All he could think about was the way Brock always fell in his arms at the end of the day, the mischievous smile he’d direct at him when he was trying to get on Jack’s nerves because he found it funny when Jack got annoyed. There hadn’t been any indication that it was temporary, that they were just having fun. They were in love. Or, they were at least. Brock held his head high despite the tension he was carrying on his shoulders. Jack could tell when Brock was uncomfortable, all their years together had helped him to learn all the tells of the man’s emotion. Except love, however. 

Their friends were polite enough not to stare openly, Steve and Bucky turning towards the table laden with food. Natasha had crossed the room to the counter where Clint had set the champagne down, speaking too quietly for Jack to hear over the breaking of his heart. He dunked into Steve and Bucky’s bedroom and Brock crossed his arms defensively. 

“Why would you do that?” he demanded. 

“No?” Jack whispered hoarsely. It hurt even more now there was no one else to look on. 

“Jack…” Brock closed his eyes. “I’m sorry but no.” 

“Did I do something wrong?” 

“No.” Jack was starting to hate that word. “It’s not you, you’re great. And-and we’ve had so much fun together these past few years but I… I don’t want to marry you Jack.” 

“We don’t have to get married if you don’t want to,” Jack said desperately, feeling the sea of heartache pulling them apart. 

“It’s not that I don’t want to get married.” 

“Then what is it?” It wasn’t too soon; after five years it had been a question of when not if. “Was it something I did?”

“It’s not you, it’s me.” Brock said quickly, as if the overused excuse wouldn’t send another dagger into his heart. He wasn’t even worth a genuine answer. “It’s… We’ve had a lot of fun, Jack. And it’s been fun, it really, really has. But… We aren’t going to get married, Jack.”

“Why can’t we?” Jack whispered. He was starting to shake, his body unable to handle the brutal onslaught of emotions that were tearing him apart. “What did I do wrong?” 

“You should have talked to me first. We could have avoided this whole thing.” 

The ring box was his in his hands. The ring he’d picked out after hours of research and multiple jewelry stores. Because he’d planned it for over a year, running it through his friends who all seemed as assured as Jack did that Brock would say yes. But he hadn’t and Jack had no idea what he was supposed to do now. He hadn’t planned for a rejection. Who did? If his heart wasn’t so broken he’d be embarrassed but currently he was just trying to understand where he’d misread their relationship. 

“I love you.” Jack managed. “I… Don’t you want to be together forever? To make us official?” 

Brock rubbed the back of his neck looking anywhere but at Jack. “We’ve had a lot of fun together,” Brock said again, after an extended pause. “But I… I never intended on marrying you.” 

“Is it… Is marriage the problem? We don’t have to get married if you don’t want to.” 

“It’s not marriage, Jack. It’s…” 

“It’s me.” Jack realized and suddenly he was numb. “It’s not getting married, it’s getting married to me.” 

“Don’t say it like that. It’s not fair.” 

“Fair?” Jack laughed humorlessly and tears ran down his cheeks. His pride had been beaten down to nothing along with his heart. What did he really have left to lose? “I love you, Brock. I’ve loved you for five years. Are you telling me you felt nothing towards me?” 

“I didn’t say that.” Brock snapped. “We were having fun. I’m only twenty four, Jack. We’ve been together a long time. But there’s more to the world than the two of us. I’m not ready to commit myself to one person for the rest of my life.” 

Jack swallowed thickly, the impact of what he said was brutal. “Did you love me?” 

“Of course I did. And I always will. But… Marriage? God, what were you thinking?” Brock shook his head. “You don’t do something like that without talking to the person first. You made us both look like fucking idiots.” 

Jack looked away. Never in his life had he felt the way he did towards Brock and the fallout from that felt like it was going to be the death of him, he was sure of it. Brock had been more than a hand to hold, a warm body to fill his bed. He’d held his heart since their first kiss. All those years had deceived him into thinking that the feelings would be mutual. Clearly that wasn’t the case. Brock had been having fun while Jack planned out forever. He wanted to walk away but he didn’t know how. They shared an apartment they had since their two year anniversary. 

Were they broken up? Was there even a reason to stay together when it was clear that they were on vastly different pages? 

There was so much to address, painful conversations to be had in the future, but right now they were running on limited time, their friends were outside the room waiting. Jack was a fucking idiot. 

“I thought you loved me as much as I loved you.” 

Brock’s brown eyes softened but he didn’t object to the statement. He just said, “I’m sorry.” 

The apology did nothing but double-down the pain of realizing that their relationship had meant far more to him than it did to Brock. He had always been so genuine, so honest and open that he had taken “I love you” with more weight than it was worth. At the end it was Jack alone, looking like a fool. 

“We should, uh, get back to the party.” Brock wouldn’t even look at him. Jack swallowed thickly. “I’ll give you a minute.” 

He left the room and Jack let himself cry for a bit. It didn’t help as much as he wanted it to. There were plenty of tears in his future -- his future alone without Brock -- and this was just a temporary way to console his broken heart. The door opened and Jack turned around, idiotic hope that it was Brock who had changed his mind and decided he loved Jack just as much as he loved him. It wasn’t. It was Natasha, a bit of confetti in her hair from the party poppers they’d set off. She shut the door behind her and that was enough to break down what walls Jack had managed to construct around the situation. 

Natasha pulled him into a hug, running her hand up and down his back as he bent down awkwardly and wet the shoulder of her shirt with his tears. It felt childish, like he was being comforted from a high school break up, but it was more than that. There was so much more to it.

“I’m sorry, Jack. I’m so sorry.” 

Jack couldn’t even begin to formulate words, not when the pain was still so new. He was alone for the first time in five years and that was too long of a stretch of time to take lightly. The man he had loved more than life itself had pulled the rug out from under him. He was terrified to be alone, to be without Brock for the first time. Before they were lovers they had been friends, best friends. And now he had lost both of them at the same time. 

“I don’t know what I did wrong.” 

“Sometimes it’s just not meant to be.” 

Anger was a good tourniquet to pain but Jack wasn’t ready for that yet. It was too fresh. All he could do was try and get himself together to figure out their next steps. Going back to their shared apartment wasn’t an option; all he wanted was to go home and hide away in their -- his? -- bedroom until the pain grew more tolerable. When his tears ran dry, Natasha gave him a pat on the back and asked if he was ready to go back to the party. It wasn’t much of a party anymore but he appreciated Natasha trying to keep things normal. He tried to hold his head high as he left but the softened looks he got from Steve, Bucky and Clint told him that it was a moot effort. Brock was nowhere to be seen but he didn’t want to ask about him. Not yet at least. 

He went for the Dom. It was a painful reminder of the rejection; it was meant to be celebratory not consolation but fuck it. He filled a flute, turned to the silent room and said, “To 2021.” and threw it all back. He knew it was pathetic but he got thin, wary, sympathetic smiles as they helped themselves as if the champagne that was meant to celebrate their friends’ engagement. Jack finally understood what heartbreak tasted like: it was dry, with citrus, honey and leesey. Jack opted for another flute and on one stopped him. After he’d ingested his third glass, pain numbed just enough, he turned his attention on the quiet party. 

“Guess he wasn’t too interested.” 

“Jack,” Steve said softly and Jack waved him off because he couldn’t handle any sympathy. It was too easy to fall apart and he’d fallen apart enough for one night. 

“I think I’m going home.” Jack realized he had the ring box still clenched in his hand. He hastily shoved it into his pocket unwilling to look even more pathetic than he already did. 

“You can stay the night,” Steve offered immediately. 

“Thanks but I’d rather just go home.” Jack wasn’t sure if Brock was there or if he was going to go stay with a friend. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Natasha said firmly. “Breakfast at El Toro.” 

Jack was about to protest but he knew it was fruitless. “Sure.” 

He got hugs goodbye, far too tight and pitying but Jack kept himself together. It felt wrong to leave without Brock, without their hands entangled because they always were. Brock had always wanted to hold his hand, kissed him eagerly, initiated sex, but now that meant nothing. Jack wished he hadn’t asked; at least then he wouldn’t have to suffer the way he was now. The apartment was empty and Jack didn’t know if that was better or worse. He shut the door and rested his back against it before he slid down, hugging his knees as he cried. Finally he had the privacy to crumble down to nothing; to shatter completely without needing to be able to stitch himself together if someone saw him. So much had been taken away the moment he got on his knee. It wasn’t just Brock, it was their happiness, it was the warmest bed he’d even known. 

Jack had intended to leave Steve and Bucky’s place with a fiance and instead he had left single. 2021 was setting up to be one hell of a year. He cried himself out and rested his head against the door, heart tarnished and broken as he grieved the loss of Brock. The apartment was a capsule of the past; just a few hours earlier it had housed two happy people. Now… Now he didn’t know. They had over six months left on their lease and neither of them could afford it on their own but the idea of staying there with him, mocked by the happiness that had once lived in the walls, was intolerable. Even the idea sleeping in their shared bed was painful. He’d given up on wishing it was a bad dream; if he was ever going to get over it he had to address it. They would have to talk about their future, even if it was a future apart, and Jack would have to deal with it. If only he was as indifferent as Brock was; then this would never have happened. 

He still didn’t understand; five years was a long time, five years of commitment was nothing to scoff at. Five years of “I love you”s weren’t easily dismissed. 

Jack got to his feet and fished a beer from the fridge. It was cold, almost as cold as the ‘no’ Brock had said. His cheeks were itchy with drying tear tracks and he leaned against the counter in the half light from the stove top light. Brock had rooted himself in his life and he now had to cope with being unearthed. He knew it was natural to feel the way he did, to be so heartbroken and furious and fragile, but it was still unwelcome. 

Logically he knew that the way he was feeling was temporary, that one day he would move on and find someone new to love -- someone who loved him back just as fiercely as he loved them -- but he doubted his heart would ever be the same again. Heartbreak left scars, he was certain of that. Especially when only one person bore the brunt of it. 

Jack would move on and so would Brock. Different people, different stories. One day another man would get down on his knee and propose to Brock. And Brock would love him and say yes. One day Jack would get back down on his knee and propose to someone else who wouldn’t leave him stranded and alone afterwards. 

One day.


End file.
